


Hux’s Valentine Tradition

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 16:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: For KyluxXoXo Valentine’s prompt bingo card: Alone/Movie/CardHux is a proud man with traditions, and his Valentine’s Day tradition is to stay home alone with a horror movie and a nice bottle of wine. He boasts to his PA, Mitaka, that he sees no point in Valentine’s Day and has never received a card.In revenge, Mitaka orchestrates a prank on Hux. A prank that accidentally leads to Ren and Hux actually communicating with each other.Update: Added art (by me)





	Hux’s Valentine Tradition

“Good morning, Mr Hux.”  
Hux makes himself relax his clenched jaw before he looks round, and forces a tight smile onto his face.  
“Has no one told you that I am not to be spoken to directly before eight forty-five?” he says, not bothering to push his glasses up his nose to avoid squinting at the terribly young intern’s shiny, new name badge. He resumes his march to his corner office and closes the door. At precisely eight forty-six, another man knocks softly, goes in and sets a cup of tea at Hux’s elbow.  
“Hmm,” says Hux in lieu of thanks, closing a window of black technical drawings on a pale grey background. “Mitaka, please see that my Starkiller notes are ready for my meeting with Snoke this afternoon. Ren will be there and I have to look better than he is at everything. Shouldn’t be too difficult, but one must be prepared.” Mitaka nods and waits. “And reschedule my four o’clock team briefing in case Ren loses his temper again and my meeting with Snoke overruns. I think... yes. Six o’clock should give sufficient time for me to explain all the details of Project Starkiller to Snoke in ways that even Ren can comprehend.”  
“Um,” Mitaka says, looking wretched. “Only...”  
Hux sighs and glares at his assistant. “Out with it.”  
“Sorry, Mr Hux, but it’s Valentine’s Day and a number of the team have plans. They want to go home and get ready. To go out.” Mitaka swallows and risks a glance at Hux’s face. “You know. With... other people.”  
Hux rattles his teacup in its saucer. “Oh heavens above, Mitaka. What a load of romantic codswallop. Are you included in this ridiculous show of sugar-hearted fakery?” Mitaka bites his lip, desperately trying not to blush. Hux shakes his head. “So you have a date. No!” Hux holds up his hand as Mitaka’s mouth opens. “I do not want to hear about it either before or after. Please inform the rest of my team that I am proud to reveal that I have neither sent nor received a pathetic Valentine card in my entire life and I have never been on anything as sad and sordid as a Valentine’s Day date. All mentions of romantic trysts are banned. If I see one, single, soppy, glittery, red roses and pink love hearts Valentines card I will immediately fire both the sender and the recipient.” Hux glares. “Understood?”  
“Yes, Mr Hux. I will see to it.” He picks up Hux’s empty cup and waits.  
“WHAT!”  
“About that six o’clock team briefing. Would, um, four-thirty be acceptable?”  
“Absolutely not,” replies Hux, turning to his screen. “Make it five o’clock. And teach that new intern my rules before I see him again. What’s his name?”  
“Thanisson, sir.” Mitaka waits until he’s almost closed the door before adding, “He’s my date.”

Mitaka’s plan is simple in theory, easily realised in practice, and eagerly welcomed by everyone who has ever faced Mr Hux’s acerbic demeanour and wishes they could indulge in a small, anonymous and petty act of revenge. Whispers in corridors and murmurs in elevators carry the plan from office to office and floor to floor by half past ten, and just before noon Thanisson is dispatched with a wad of fivers from the inter-office whip-round (efficiently, ruthlessly and confidentially conducted by Phasma’s security team) and instructions to return with as many tasteless, lovey-dovey cards as he can afford. At lunchtime, every member of Hux’s various teams huddles in the cafeteria, furnished with a pen, at least one card and the shared conviction that, _”hey, he can’t sack us all, can he?”_

In charge of the afternoon mail run, Unamo sorts the buff, string-closed, reusable envelopes according to the last legible name scrawled on the grid that covers front and back. She has a tray for each office and her job is made faster by the fact that she made it her first ever task to memorise the names and positions of all employees, and she updates her knowledge every time someone moves sideways, upwards, in or out. Today she needs a separate box just for Armitage Hux and she positions it on top of her mail trolley, right in the centre. At three o’clock precisely, Unamo pushes the mail trolley out of the mailroom and across the ground floor atrium, pausing to give a jaunty little bow of acknowledgment to the staff who encourage her progress with cheers and applause. For the first time in her history of pushing the awkward mail cart around, someone is holding the lift for her and in a change to her usual route Unamo starts at the lowest level and works her way up. The box for Mr Hux gets fuller and fuller as she progresses through the offices until the top few envelopes slip off and she has to stop and jam them in the box sideways. When the elevator finally stops on the top floor and its doors slowly open, they reveal a line of employees waiting with smiling faces and hidden giggles.

Mitaka steps up and carefully lifts the box for Mr Hux. “I should take this to Mr Hux directly,” he says, picking up a couple of escaping envelopes and struggling to keep his face neutral. “It looks terribly important.”  
Unamo sniggers and wheels the trolley into the main office and unloads the rest of the mail. Unlike most days, there is nobody waiting to pounce on the envelopes as she slides them into individual pigeon holes. Everyone is waiting as close to the corner office as they dare for the moment Mr Hux opens his mail. Trolley emptied, Unamo joins them just as Mitaka emerges and closes the door silently behind him. Unamo sees Mitaka’s wide smile fade from his face at the yell of _”GET BACK IN HERE!”_ only slightly muffled by the door. He pulls a face, twirls and vanishes inside.

Mr Hux is not smiling. Mitaka raises his eyebrows and puts on his best calm voice.  
“Did you need anything else, Mr Hux?”  
“An explanation, Mitaka. I need an explanation for THIS.” Hux waves a card, a particularly fetching one with a dark pink background and a pale pink teddy bear hugging a red heart, edged with gold glitter and emblazoned with the phrase _BEARING MY HEART_ comic sans above the picture.  
“Oh, that is very nice, sir. May I enquire—“  
“No you may not!” Hux shoots back.  
“Ah, of course. Valentine cards are supposed to be from a secret admirer, so you wouldn’t know who sent it.” Mitaka does his best not to cringe under Hux’s glare and not to giggle nervously with the sudden gut-twisting realisation that he may be abruptly unemployed. He’s not sure he dare speak again while his options flash before his eyes.  
“That,” Hux says, enunciating clearly, “is hardly the point.” He picks up another card, and another and another until his hands are so full of pink and red and gold, pictures of hearts and roses and cutsey animals, that he drops one. It falls to the floor in front of Mitaka, who picks it up as Hux dumps the others into the waste basket. “I want a full list of who all these ridiculous cards came from. I will stay here all night and analyse the handwriting if I must, but if I have to find out for myself it will go very badly for anyone who does not own up.”  
After twenty awkward seconds, Mitaka deflates like a leaky balloon. “Sir, blame me for all of it. I put everyone up to it and organised the whip round, sent out for cards and got everyone to collaborate on writing them.” He shrugs and his fingers worry at the corner of the card he still holds. “I thought it would be a nonstarter but even the head of Personnel and the head of Product Testing were talking to each other about this over their sandwiches at lunch.”  
Hux frowns at Mitaka. “You saw Opan and Peavey _talking?_ And not glaring silently or shouting?”  
“They even arranged to meet later for drinks, sir. I think love is in the air.”  
“Then have the air-conditioning serviced as soon as possible.” Hux sighs and sits. Clearly his assistant has some misdirected leadership potential. Firing Mitaka would mean he’d have to train up another personal assistant and that would be tedious. He stares at the reflection in his blank computer screen as if his mirror image will provide an excuse to back down. After a minute of silent contemplation from Hux and nervous shuffling from Mitaka, Hux says, “The fact that your... your unauthorised team-building exercise got those two to interact without a sudden vacancy in the top tier of Product Testing is the only thing that is saving your perfect employment record right now. And don’t think for one instant that I will ever forget this act of petty sabotage against my authority. Give me that.”

Hux holds out his hand and Mitaka passes the last card over. He frowns in confusion at it because this card is larger and stiffer than the budget romance versions Thanisson brought back from the pound shop, and it has a rougher texture. The picture on the front is of a relatively tasteful arrangement of red roses beside two tall flutes of sparking wine, done in watercolour. The message simply says _Valentine_ in slightly uneven calligraphic script. With a jolt Mitaka realises the card is hand made.  
“Um, Mr Hux?” Hux’s hand stills over the waste basket, card gripped between thumb and forefinger. Mitaka flashes a nervous, tight little smile and explains. “That card wasn’t part of the practical joke. I’ve never seen it before and I have no idea who sent it.”  
Without breaking eye contact, Hux raises one eyebrow and drops the card into the trash.

Once Mitaka has left, Hux counts to ten slowly and retrieves the last card from the waste paper basket beside his desk. He opens it, one eye on the door, adjusts his glasses and reads the careful script inside.

 _Kisses are sweeter than honey_  
_Your lips look like heaven to me_  
_Let me hold you and call you my bunny_  
_Oh, kiss me and happy I’ll be_

Hux drops the card as if it burned his fingers. As it falls, he sees a note written on the back and, against his better judgment, he retrieves it.

_Empire Coffee House 7pm._

It has to be the last part of the joke, he decides, but he admires the work that went into making it. He wonders why someone would go to all that trouble just to have a laugh at his expense, and he can’t think of a single reason. He also wonders who has the skill and patience to paint a card by hand when they could just as easily have bought one from almost any shop on their way to work. There’s a knock at his door and Hux slips the card into his desk drawer. Mitaka walks in carrying an iPad.  
“I downloaded all your notes onto this,” he says, holding out the device. Hux takes it with a nod. He spends the next while reviewing his speech and rehearsing his most vehement lines until it’s time for his meeting with Snoke.

At six-thirty, Hux takes the card out again. He has not had time to think about it since Mitaka interrupted him earlier, and he furrows his brow at it as if that would make the sender appear in the watercolour painting on the front. He wonders if it was Mitaka himself—he seems like the sort to indulge in an artistic hobby—but a vague half-memory reminds Hux that Mitaka has other plans. Definitely not Opan, the man’s known for being clever at industrial espionage but as subtle as a sledgehammer regarding his own love life, and he knows Hux isn’t interested. If he had time, Hux thinks, he could carry out his threat to cross reference all the handwriting in the card with the samples provided for employee personnel records, then he laughs at himself. He decides he does want to know who sent it, only to inform his next personnel reshuffle, and the easiest way is to show up at the appointed time. If it turns out that it’s all part of the joke he can play along and fire whoever he likes tomorrow. It’s simple, he tells himself as he smooths his hair down and slips on his coat. All he has to do is walk past the coffee house, look in the window and walk on by.

The last thing he expects is to encounter Kylo Ren in the lift. He’s already inwardly groaning that his journey to the atrium is interrupted to pick up another passenger and he’ll have to move over to make room for another shuffling, breathing human who might brush against him or bang his leg with the careless swing of a bag, but Ren is the worst. He’s broad and tall and Hux feels like the man expands to fill all available space. He thinks for a second that Ren is a gas while he is a solid, Ren is capricious and random and altogether too full of energy while he himself is solid and regular and dependable. He doesn’t understand why Snoke won’t get rid of Ren and put him in sole command of Project Starkiller. Ren asks too many questions that Hux can’t be bothered trying to explain. Ren doesn’t understand the jargon. He’s not even an engineer.  
“Good evening,” Ren says as Hux presses his lips together and pushes the _close doors_ and then _Atrium_ buttons. Ren points at Hux’s fingers, still frantically stabbing at the control panel. “You know that makes no difference, right?”  
“It does,” snaps Hux.  
“Okay,” Ren replies. “Hey, are you going out anywhere special tonight?”  
“What?” Hux looks at Ren. “No. I have a nice quiet evening planned alone with a film and maybe a glass or two of chablis.” Ren has the bad grace to look pleased. At least, Hux thinks, he’s not expressing puppyish pity for Hux’s choice of staying in. Hux is vaguely aware that Ren is speaking. “What?”  
“I asked what movie you plan to watch tonight.”  
The lift is taking its time. Hux wills it to drop faster. “Probably a horror,” he says. “In keeping with the sentiment of the season.”  
“Awesome!” Ren says with a soft laugh. “I love horror movies. Have you seen _Annihilation_?”  
Hux raises his eyebrows in genuine surprise. “That’s actually the film I plan to watch so please don’t say anything more.”  
“Okay.” Ren laughs. “I was going to ask if it was any good. I’ve not seen it yet either. No date?”  
“Obviously not. You?” The question is out before Hux can stop it. Ren pulls a face and waggles his hand. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m hoping to meet someone. Hey, did you get a Valentine card?”  
Hux glares at Ren, all his frustrations at the day boiling up inside him until his face is red and he’s afraid his rage might actually force out a tear. “What the fuck! Were you in on the prank? Did someone from your office make you all sit and sign pathetic cards to send me? I’m a fucking laughing stock because of—”  
The lift lurches to a stop and the doors open. Hux strides out without bothering to finish his sentence. Ren watches him go, comprehension dawning on his face, then he hurries to catch up.

“Hux! Wait up!”  
Hux turns to see Ren trotting up. “What do you want?”  
“Let me buy you coffee before we both head home. I usually get something from Empire to help me get through my commute in a better mood. Their food is really good too.”  
Hux sucks his lip once. It’s convenient, he thinks. He can go into the coffee house with Ren, look around, and if he’s seen ‘turning up for a blind date’ he can easily offer the far more plausible reason that he was having an informal meeting with his co-director of Project Starkiller. He gives Ren a quick nod.  
“Well then. I suppose there’s no need to rush home to my cat since she can’t tell the time.”  
Ren smiles and Hux is amazed for an instant by the warmth he feels in its glow before he reminds himself that he hates this lumbering idiot who couldn’t find his ventral exhaust aperture with both hands. He walks through security with a wave to Phasma then out of the building and heads toward the coffee house on the opposite corner of the street with Ren at his shoulder.

Wind-driven drizzle soaks and chills them both on the short trot between gridlocked cars to the coffee shop. A blast of warm air fogs Hux’s glasses and he stops just inside the door to take them off to wipe on a fold of his jacket. The coffee house is quiet and Hux frowns at all the blurry faces without recognising a single one. Ren is at the counter, ordering and tapping his card on the reader by the till. Hux joins him.  
“Hope it’s okay,” Ren says. “I’m hungry so I ordered us both the salad of the day, large soy winter spice lattes and ginger cake. They complement each other really well.”  
“So you’re some kind of coffee shop expert?” Hux glances around but still sees nobody he recognises.  
“I have many skills you don’t yet know about,” Ren says. Their order arrives at the counter and Ren points out a vacant table. Hux positions himself so that he can see most of the rest of the room. Ren plonks himself down and unloads their tray. He pops the cover on his salad bowl, sips at his latte and puts it down while deciding what to say. He settles on, “Have you worked for Snoke for a long time?”  
Hux presses his lips together and narrows his eyes a little. “Yes,” he says. “Most of my career. I worked my way up from an entry level post in design. Snoke recognised my leadership skills very early on.”  
“I see,” Ren replies.  
“Well what does that mean?” demands Hux. “I see? See what?” Ren gives Hux a wide eyed stare and Hux relents. “I apologise. I may be a little on edge after my assistant pulled the stupid stunt with the cards. One of the card-senders even suggested meeting here at seven. Can you imagine it? Turning up for a blind date on Valentine’s day? How pathetic.”  
Ren smiles and shakes his head in a move he hopes is seen as sympathetic agreement. “I only meant I can see why Snoke keeps you close. You’re cleverer than he is,” Ren suppresses a snort at Hux’s smug nod, “and Project Starkiller is brilliant.”  
Hux is nonplussed at the compliments. “Well,” he says after a few seconds of stunned silence. “Yes, it is rather brilliant.” Hux pauses again to shovel apricot glazed chicken with couscous into his mouth, drink latte and slice off a sticky corner of ginger cake with his fork. He wonders how this works: conversing without an agenda to follow or Mitaka unobtrusively taking notes. “So,” he says eventually. “I’d never heard of you until two months ago. How did you come to be working for Snoke?”  
“Oh,” Ren takes a proper drink of his latte and sets it down slowly. “I was unhappy in my previous job. Snoke headhunted me.”  
“I see,” Hux says, then glances at Ren. Ren laughs.  
“What does that mean? I see? What do you see?”  
“I see...” _Someone who stepped right into Snoke’s favour without earning it._ “...someone teetering on the top rung of a major project without adequate background knowledge.”

Ren’s face falls. Hux sighs. “Look, I’ve been working on this for over a year. It’s my project and—“  
“And I show up and you’re told to share and you don’t like it.” Ren’s scowling. “I can’t believe I actually thought—“  
“It’s nothing like that!” Hux knows he’s lying. “It’s just...“ He shrugs. “I worked my arse off to get where I am and you just waltz in without warning. No induction period, no shadowing the project leader to find out how we work, no team building weekend—“  
Ren holds up a hand and pulls a face. “Ugh, thank the stars. Those are the worst. Freezing my ass off in army surplus gear, firing paintballs as people I don’t want to get to know? No thanks.”  
Hux’s flash of ire is doused by Ren’s look of disgust, and he can’t suppress a snort of laughter.  
“Aren’t they? We did an escape room challenge last time we had a new team member. For all I know he’s still in there. That reminds me—I should insist on a teambuilding event for the new interns. One of them deserves it.”  
Ren grins. “I guess we got off to a bad start, huh?” Hux nods as he chews his food. “It’s a long shot, but I really want to be active on your project. I’m sure Snoke has other plans for me after Starkiller is complete. So,” Ren pushes his cup and plate out the way and leans forward. “You know everything there is to know about it and I just showed up recently. Would you bring me up to speed?”  
Hux is aware that he’s being flattered but takes it as a sign that Ren acknowledges his superior status. “I suppose that’s the quickest way to get ri... for you to earn your own project,” he replies. “You could email my assistant to schedule an appointment.”  
“Why waste time?” Ren says. “What about tonight? Neither of us has anything urgent to do.”  
Hux looks incredulous. “You want to start right away?”  
Ren nods. “Yes. The sooner the better.” He looks away, cheeks tinged from the warmth in the cafe, and adds, “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”  
“Well then,” Hux says with a shrug. “I suppose I can watch the film some other night. And you did just buy me dinner.”

After a short discussion where Hux vetoes going to Ren’s place and Ren refuses to go back into the office building, Hux invites Ren to his apartment. They have a few stops on the underground and a brisk walk to a tall, modern building. Hux leads Ren up to his door and ushers him inside.  
“This is nice,” Ren observes, looking around at the plain but comfortable furnishings. “Ikea?”  
Hux brays laughter. “I may be an engineer at heart, Ren, but I assure you I did not build any of this myself from a flatpack. Take off your jacket and go sit on the sofa.”  
Ren smiles, drapes his jacket over the armrest and sits where Hux points. He can see a slight dip on the other side and infers that it’s where Hux habitually sits. Opposite, there is a wall-mounted flat screen television and Ren estimates that it must be at least an eighty inch. Between the sofa and the screen is a low coffee table, its surface clear apart from a small bowl that contains a set of keys and some loose change. He turns his head when he hears Hux speak from another room, voice soft and melodic.  
“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. Sorry I didn’t get you anything special. Daddy was working all day. Will tuna do?”  
Ren can barely believe this is the same person speaking. The haughty, clipped tone is gone, replaced by something far easier on the ears. He gets up to investigate, but as he reaches the door a ginger blur streaks past his ankles, thunders down the hall and hurtles into the furthest room. Hux tightens his lips, and the voice Ren is used to hearing across Snoke’s conference table is back. “Look what you did. You scared her away from her dinner.” Hux tuts and opens the fridge. “She’s shy. She won’t come back out while you’re here.”  
“She?”  
“My cat.” Hux brandishes a bottle. “Do you want a glass of this? Or I could make tea if you prefer.” Ren points at the bottle in Hux’s hand. Hux makes a small sound of approval, uncorks it and pours two glasses before stowing the bottle back in the fridge. “Take these and sit down. I’ll bring my Project Starkiller plans and we can get started.”

Hux returns with his jacket and tie gone, his collar open, and an iPad in his hand. He settles into the slight dip in the sofa and activates the device with his thumbprint. He taps for a few seconds then turns the screen slightly so that Ren can see over his shoulder.  
“So here it is. Current progress and plans for the next stage. What do you think?”  
Ren scrutinises the screen. “I’m not sure,” he says, loosening his own tie and collar. “Why don’t you talk me through it?”  
Ren just catches Hux’s smile before he reaches for his glass and takes a sip. It’s good wine, Ren thinks, better than he’d usually buy. Hux turns on the huge TV screen and, with a flick of a finger, the TV displays a page of line drawings, circuit diagrams and small, dense text. Hux gets up to close the blinds.  
“It’s really a very simple concept,” he says on his way back. “Would you like me to start from where we left off in the last meeting with Snoke?”  
Ren shakes his head and smiles. “No,” he says. “From the very beginning.”  
Hux smiles back and Ren feels like the Sun just shone a little brighter.

Hux talks. As he explains the intricacies of his design and his solutions to manufacturing challenges, his voice slips into enthusiastic laughs and excited rhetorical questions. At some point after the second glass of wine he tuts at the screen and freezes it on an image while he loads a video on his iPad. Hux settles closer to Ren and angles the screen.  
“Look at this,” he says, and Ren moves so close that their thighs briefly touch. They both flinch then settle back together as Ren watches the small screen in Hux’s hands while Hux narrates in a soft, awed voice. “Preliminary testing went well, but wait...” The image flares for an instant and dims. “See that?” Hux looks expectantly at Ren. Ren raises his eyebrows. Hux tuts and shakes his head. “No? Well then, maybe the next test will be easier for non-specialist eyes.”  
Ren watches as Hux starts the next clip. There’s a low hum and a bright flash and the sound of cheering as a red beam emerges, holds steady for almost two seconds, then crackles and dissipates. With a smile and a laugh, Ren claps Hux on the shoulder and slides his palm around Hux’s back to his other shoulder.  
“I saw it!” Ren grins. “But it’s unstable!”  
“Oh, it is quite stable,” Hux says with a smug nod, voice clipped and precise again. “We ran out of power. Drained the batteries entirely. But I proved it works. I need Snoke’s approval to seek alternative means of powering it.” Hux leans forward and Ren wonders if he’ll stay out of reach of the arm he’s casually draped across Hux’s shoulders, but Hux finishes his wine and leans back against Ren. “I’m thinking we should build a solar energy collector array in orbit and use a microwave beam coupling. It’s clean and renewable.”  
“Up to a point,” Ren replies with a laugh. “It wouldn’t do to have a superweapon that pollutes its own orbit and needs new batteries every time it’s fired. How big to you plan to go? I mean, even the Sun is a finite resource if your scale is large enough.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/139039409@N06/46971320041/in/dateposted-ff/)

For a few seconds he thinks he’s gone too far, that Hux will be offended and ask him to leave. But Hux gets up, picks up their empty glasses, points at Ren and says, “Exactly!” with a little laugh before padding to the kitchen. Ren hears the clink of two glasses being set on the worktop, then Hux calls through.  
“Uh, do you know it’s late?”  
Surprised, Ren looks at the time on Hux’s tablet. “Not that late,” he replies. “Only half past nine according to your device.”  
Hux frowns, two more glasses of wine, red this time, in one splayed hand, stems carefully slipped between long, slender fingers. “No, that’s still set from my last trip abroad. It’s actually half past eleven.”  
“Ah shit!” Ren leans forward as if to stand up. “I missed the last train by an hour. Sorry, I was engrossed in your plans and lost track of time. I’ll call a cab.”  
Hux shrugs and hands him a glass. “We’re both going to the same place in the morning, aren’t we?”  
Ren looks up at Hux, watches him sit down again and reach for the TV remote. “What do you mean?” he asks.  
Hux gives Ren a quizzical look. “I mean, you can stay.” Ren swallows. Hux turns a little pink and adds, “The sofa is quite comfortable. You’re not allergic, are you?”  
“To your sofa?”  
“To my cat.” Hux looks at Ren and laughs. It’s a warm sound, genuine. He joins in with a snort.  
“No. Sorry. I didn’t really think you meant—“  
“Well then, that’s settled. Would you rather watch a film or call it a night?”  
“Film,” Ren decides with a nod, reaching for his glass.

From his iPad, Hux dims the lights and starts the film then he settles back against the sofa and pulls his feet up beside him. The film is fifteen minutes in when Ren realises Hux is closer, almost leaning against him, and he wonders if Hux is drifting off to sleep. A furtive glance tells him that Hux is wide awake and staring at the screen where the heroine is gazing out over shimmering landscape. Ren shifts his arm up to the back of the sofa.  
“It’s beautiful,” he says. “Isn’t it?”  
“Mm.” Hux nods but doesn’t turn his head. He can feel Ren’s warm presence, and despite all his bluster earlier in the day he’s glad of the company tonight. He gets up to refill their glasses, head slightly muzzy, and when he comes back Ren’s arm is still there behind where he’d been sitting, and Ren is staring at the TV screen. Hux smiles and sits down, hands Ren his glass then slides back into the gap Ren has left. “I thought this was a horror,” he says as he taps _play._ “But I don’t seem to be running away or screaming yet.”  
“Give it time,” Ren replies.

They settle back to watch the film again. Hux is taken by the beauty of the cinematography and says so quietly. Ren just nods, afraid that if he’s too loud or moves too much Hux will notice and move away, but he can’t help a laugh when Hux reacts to a small jump-scare and flinches enough to slop wine over their laps.  
“Shit, sorry,” Hux says, pausing playback. “Let me get you something else to wear. Are those washable?”  
“I don’t know,” Ren says as he stands up and unfastens his belt.  
Hux darts out and comes back wearing a plain, black robe. He hands a bundle of clothes to Ren. “These should fit you. You can change...”  
Hux’s words trail off as, lit by the glow of the TV screen, Ren strips off his shirt and drops it on the floor then pulls the grey teeshirt on. It fits, barely. Next Ren removes his shoes, socks and suit trousers. Hux takes Ren’s trousers from him, not daring to make eye contact, and scurries to the kitchen to rinse the spilt wine out. When he comes back a minute later, Ren is wearing sweatpants and lounging on the sofa.  
“Thanks,” Ren says, smiling up at him. “I’m surprised you have anything that fits me.”  
Hux bites back the retort that _fit_ is a relative term. The shirt is stretched tight across the pectorals Hux hadn’t been aware of, usually hidden under Ren’s shirt, vest and jacket, and the seams of the sweatpants are barely equal to the challenge of holding together around Ren’s muscular thighs. He also suppresses the urge to find an excuse to make Ren get up and walk across the room just to test a newly formed hypothesis about the man’s gluteals. Hux sits down, carefully arranging the folds of his robe, and reaches for his iPad.  
“Well. That’s all sorted. Let’s watch the rest of the film.”

It’s not long before Hux is gripping Ren’s meaty thigh just above the knee with one hand while he grimaces through the fingers of his other hand at the screen, powerless even to blink while the remaining heroines are bound and gagged and vulnerable to the twisted creature that hunts them. Ren’s arm is warm around his shoulders. Hux closes his eyes at the first sign of gore, and Ren holds him a little tighter. The tension eases. When he thinks it’s safe, Hux opens his eyes.  
“I think I've seen enough,” he says.  
Ren laughs. “Oh come on, it wasn’t all that scary,” he says. A flash of movement in his peripheral vision distracts him and a weight lands on his lap. Ren jumps and screams. Claws dig into his skin and the creature pushes off again with a yowling hiss. Hux is shaking with silent laughter, hand over his mouth.  
“What the fuck was that!”  
Hux takes a gasping breath. “My cat, remember?” The words are half-giggle. “I think she likes you after all.”  
Ren smooths his hands over the front of his borrowed sweatpants where the cat scratched him, and puts his hand on his chest to feel if his heart has, indeed, leapt right out of his ribcage. He laughs at how ridiculous he must look and resigns himself to a cool goodnight and a cold taxi ride after all. Hux watches Ren’s hands move, biting his lower lip and taking a deep breath through flared nostrils.  
“Look,” Hux says, “we should go to bed. I have a meeting at nine fifteen and so do you.”  
“Oh, right.” Ren stands up. Hux stands beside him, still worrying at his lip.  
“You could... if you want. I mean, I don’t intend to... I didn’t plan...”  
Hux is very close, so close that the slightest movement will cause them to touch. Ren slowly lifts one hand, waiting for Hux to move away, but he stays rooted to the spot. Ren strokes Hux’s hair. Hux meets Ren’s gaze then leans in as if to kiss him, but stops short and looks away.  
“I didn’t plan anything more than meeting for coffee,” Ren confesses. “I’m sorry my card upset you.”  
“You... your card?” Hux pulls back, scowling. “So you _did_ take part in that fiasco? Is this part of the joke? I changed my mind, you can—”  
“I had nothing to do with that, I promise,” Ren insists, shaking his head and keeping eye contact with Hux’s grey-green glare. “If I’d known your team was pulling that stunt I wouldn’t have sent you my card at all.”  
“So,” Hux says as his scowl softens into a thoughtful frown, “you actually asked me out on a blind date?”  
“Yes.” Ren gives a sheepish smile. “I actually did that.”  
“And you actually expected me to show up?”  
Ren shrugs.  
Hux puts on his haughtiest voice. “Are you actually _twelve?”_

There’s a three second interval of utter silence before Ren bursts out laughing and Hux joins in. “Fine!” Ren says. “I’ll ask properly.” Ren takes a step back and desperately tries to keep a straight face. Hux looks perplexed. “Hux, will you go out with me?” Hux snorts. Ren’s lips twitch but he controls it. “I was going to get my friend to ask your friend to ask you out for me but neither of us has any friends so— Ow!”  
“Speak for yourself!” Hux retorts, rubbing his palm where it smarts from slapping Ren’s bicep. “Mitaka is my friend. It’s written into his contract.”  
Ren laughs. “Can I still come to bed with you?”  
“I suppose so,” Hux says with a smile. “But I’m not breaking my tradition of not having a romantic tryst on Valentine’s Day so prepare for disappointment if you think you’re going to get anything more than a goodnight handshake.”  
Ren pulls a pout that makes Hux laugh, and makes a show of checking the correct time. “I would like to inform you that is it officially the fifteenth of February. I conclude that it is no longer Valentine’s Day and therefore if anything more than a handshake occurs your _tradition_ would remain intact.”  
Hux grins and steps forward into Ren’s space. He puts his arms around Ren’s waist and slides his hands down to cup Ren’s arse. Ren emits a little groan when Hux squeezes and pulls their hips together. Even through one layer of thick brushed cotton and two layers of smooth black satin, Ren can feel that Hux is getting aroused. He holds Hux’s face and kisses him, trailing one hand slowly down the front of Hux’s robe to the knot that holds it closed and pulling on the end of the cord. Hux’s robe falls open and slips down his shoulders with the barest encouragement from Ren and a slight shimmy from Hux. Hux laughs softly. “Bedroom.”

 

“No one must know.” Hux says this in reply to Ren’s _good morning._ Ren raises one eyebrow and pours coffee from Hux’s machine into a cup then leans against the worktop to drink it while a ginger cat looks balefully at him from her food dish. Deciding that the large human is no threat to her breakfast, she resumes the business of eating and purring.  
“Okay,” Ren says. “Why?”  
“Because people talk,” Hux says, “ and I do not want my private life to be a matter for office gossip.”  
“Oh.” Ren helps himself to more coffee. “I won’t tell. I wouldn’t want Snoke to find out anyway.”  
“There’s that too,” Hux says, relieved that Ren is in agreement. He checks the time on the clock on the microwave. “Hmm. We have twenty minutes before we have to leave for work. If you have a two minute shower there’s probably time for a quick—“  
Hux laughs. Ren is gone and the shower is already running.

Ren watches Hux put on his work persona like an overcoat, an extra layer of insulation on top of his smart suit and shiny shoes. All the softness is gone by the time Hux walks through security ahead of Ren, who hangs back by agreement. When Ren enters the conference room for their nine-fifteen meeting, he and Hux are both serious and sharp witted, cutting right to the bone of the main issues they must address. Mitaka is there taking notes, barely raising his head, and his demeanour suggests to Ren that Hux has yet to forgive his personal assistant. Throughout the meeting, Hux avoids looking at Ren and Ren makes only brief glances toward Hux, keeping his contributions terse and to the point. The meeting ends well within the allotted time and Hux adjourns it with a professional smile around the table. Ren finds Hux’s attention on him at last and he smiles back before leaving.

Mitaka is last out of the room. He’s accosted as soon as he returns to his desk outside Hux’s office.  
“Well?” It’s Thanisson. Mitaka smiles at him and looks left then right but Hux is nowhere near. He keeps his voice low.  
“I think you’re right. Phasma said she saw Mr Hux and Mr Ren leave together last night on the security feed, and walk up to the main door together this morning, then Ren waited outside for two minutes before coming in.”  
“I’m sure Ren’s wearing the same shirt and tie as yesterday. And he looks a bit crumpled,” added Thanisson.  
“Usually Hux snipes at Ren and Ren winds Hux up, but in the meeting just now they barely looked at one another. I think they were avoiding eye contact like they’re embarrassed about something. I swear I saw Hux smile at Ren at the end and Ren just... _melted._ ”  
Thanisson nods. “More evidence that Ren spent the night with Hux. You going to use it?”  
Mitaka’s eyebrows shoot up. “No way!” he says in a loud whisper. “It is none of my business if the two top directors are fucking one another!”  
“Oh... Ooh,” Thanisson sniggers. “How many times do you think they did it?”  
Mitaka goes puce and waves Thanisson away but a sound behind him makes them both freeze. Mitaka can see the colour drain from Thanisson’s face and his gleeful smile slip into slack-jawed horror as the young intern finds his eyes drawn upwards.  
“Ah. Mitaka. Intern... Thanisson, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, sir!” Thanisson squeaks.  
“Yes, Mr Hux?” Mitaka tries to look neutral and turns to face his boss.  
“See to it that any rumours concerning myself and Mr Ren die quickly. Either the rumours fail to thrive in this company or...” Hux doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to: Mitaka and Thanisson mutter their _yessirs_ and shuffle in position. Hux smiles like a crocodile. “Well then. I feel it only fair to tell you that the answer to your question is three.”


End file.
